Midwinter
A blind night,
no eyes up there,
no wings.
So to remembering,
voices, faces, touches,
fear and the breaking
of blood-red days,
silences, cold, clean,
music of aeolian harps,
(some of those winds
smelling of violence)
indifferent seas.
Sawdust bars and wicked wine,
coarse perfume, solid stench
of poverty that wears a grin,
a heritage no advertiser vaunts,
but you and I, compadres, know
the essence of the bonds
that bound all those
who cried: 'no pasaran'.
A cold dawn,
in the stillness sings
the mocking of a bird,
an anvil rings.
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Comment by: solaris - 2007-06-22 02:45
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in the still blind of night, where white lays so thick on ground, bows tree, preserves a silence - for none are out and about on this night
so, to rememberings. yessss
from the absolute stillness of the intro to the busy, grim and grimy, noisy, hurly-burly, hotchpotch of memories coming as they will, in sharp flashes, colours of pain and brighter emotions.. in all, a warmth of living as far removed from the icy stillness as can be. this
is what i see. thankyou :) |
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The first 3 lines are just now, Kenneth, the rest a cocktail of disjointed memories or the smell of them. You're right about Madrid, although I was only 8 at the time, the memories come rather from Spain in about 1960 - the poverty, fear that still lay heavy on the land, and friends who had lived through that siege, that war. The anvil a rather convoluted imagery, but where both swords and ploughshares were forged. Both sea and horses played a big part in my life. I guess it's all very personal, I hope not too much so to work in other ways.
milner |
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Intriguing piece for me. I can't seem to place the time and geography.
The "no pasaran" and "compadres" makes me think siege of Madrid, but the first stanza makes me think Blitz. Then there is the anvil and the sea....
Very much liked "the mocking of a bird" and "coarse perfume." |
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